I Am Yours
by Loobylooxxx
Summary: Harry is his Uncles Slave. Never having known his own name, or who he really is, he believes that his only purpose is to please his Master. When his Hogwarts letter comes, how will he react to his new environment?
1. Sent Away

There was never a specific date or time, or even a memory when I realised my role in life. I have always known my true purpose, and I know that I must strive to fulfil my requirements. I have no name, no age, no characteristics other than what you want me to be. I am yours, completely and utterly, in every sense of the word. Without you, I am nothing, yet I know that without me, you will be whole. I am your downfall, I make you sick. You have told me as such many times. You think I am not listening, that I deliberately disobey you, but how could I? How could I ignore the sound of your voice? Deep, rumbling echoes through my brain; I could never forget a single word you say to me. I know you speak the truth, and I try hard to obey.

I want you so much it hurts, yet I know that what I want is not significant. It is not even relevant to the situation. Only what you want, what you need, what you ask for is important. You have told me to stay, and therefore I will. I will not move. I will not speak or even twitch a muscle until you permit me to do so. To do this would be a sin, which I will not commit. I won't hurt you anymore than I am doing already.

It is much later when I hear you enter. I have not seen the clock, but I can judge time by its ticking. I know this is forbidden. I pray you will not ask me about it; you should not have to hear of my sins.

"Tell me." My uncle says, his soft voice spinning my head. I wish I could keep silent, and please him with my actions, yet I can't. I must disappoint him, yet again.

"I was aware of time passing. I listened to the clock on the wall. I breathed when it suited me, as well as blinking. I made several noises without your permission. I twitched when you opened the door." My voice is monotone. My master does not appreciate expression when I have sinned.

"Stand."

I rise, and stand before him. I do not know what he wants. His eyes, normally the betrayers of him are blank, yet I believe I see an undercurrent of fury in there. I know this is my fault, and I will do whatever I can to please him. I must wait though, until I know what he desires.

"You will listen to what I have to say. This is of vital importance."

Something is wrong. Is this a new form of punishment? Usually I am in his favour enough to punish myself for wrong doings, yet I know his punishments are usually kept for when I have sinned badly. I am evil, yet I can be cured, if only by his hand. I am desperate to know what I have done, yet I will try to placate him by following his commands: not that I could ever do any different.

"Today I received a letter concerning you. You are going to go away; to a boarding school. Whilst you are there you must perform as if you are in public, except this time, it will be for months instead of hours. During this time your name will be Harry James Potter. You are 11 years old. At this school, you will not let anybody touch your body. Nobody will see you without your clothes on. You shall not be required to perform as you do for me and my friends. This is forbidden. You will socialise with the other children, and make a few friends of your choosing. The aim of this is to let people know that you are normal. At the school somebody will teach you about... Well. You'll find out when you get there. You will call the teachers there Sir, or Professor. Never Master. If you fail on any of these tasks, you will be required to punish yourself. If any of the adults begin to mention anything about abuse, neglect, or they see your body, you will be required to kill yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master." I reply. I have played the 'Harry Potter' act before, usually in public. It is an easy act to play, one I enjoy. Harry Potter gets to play with the other children, go to school and do other normal activities that I don't deserve. I wonder what I am to call my Uncle at school, as he has said I should never say Master. "What do I call you whilst we are away Master?" I ask.

My Master's eyes flash dangerously, and his fists clench. "Did I give you permission to speak, you little whore?"

I've upset him! I've done it again; so evil, so bad, must be punished, must be punished. My hand is already on the knife strapped around my thigh, the only unexposed piece of skin on my body. I rotate the knife to the sharpest point and bring it down onto my thigh, stabbing viciously. I make one deep cut, then another, and another. I'm gasping and crying at the pain. It's agony, It hurts so much, yet it's nothing less than I deserve. Letters begin to take shape on my thigh, blood running down it onto the floor. W. H. O. R. E. Whore. That is what I am. He speaks the truth. I look up at my Master from under my lashes. He nods, noticing my gaze, and I drop my knife, cradling my bleeding thigh.

"To answer your question, I am not coming with you. A man names Severus Snape is coming to pick you up tomorrow to buy supplies for the school you're going to. Don't forget your persona, and show him respect. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master" I gasp, the pain from my thigh clouding my brain. I don't understand, why would he not be coming with me?

He looks down at me pityingly. "Do you wish for forgiveness little one? Do you want to please me?"

I know what to do now, I am back on familiar ground. I CAN please him, and I will. I bend, and he undoes his trousers, his cock leaping forward towards me. I can switch off during this. I know I am pleasing him, giving him a 'blowjob' as he calls it. I love him so much; I would do anything for him, even if I dislike it. I hope though, that now I am going away I will not have to perform at the parties he hosts. I do not mind what he does to me, but his friends are rougher than him. They give him money though, and money makes him happy.

He finishes in my mouth. I swallow neatly, and he slaps me across the face.

"Go to sleep you little slut. Be ready tomorrow at 8" He stalks out of the room.

I love him. How will I cope at this boarding school without him? Salty tears roll down my cheeks as I curl up into a ball and fall asleep.


	2. For You

I rise at 6' o clock silently. It's a habit now, I suppose, to get everything ready for Master; to prepare his breakfast, to set his clothes out, run his shower, and generally clean the house up, if it needs doing. It makes his burden easier to bear, knowing that his house is clean, and he has nothing to worry about. I try to help him in any way I can, bringing in money mainly. How will he survive when I am not there to bring in the money? To cook for him? I feel sick at the thought of leaving him. I don't know what to do when he's not there. I can count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times we have been separated. I remember the first time...

i"Please don't leave me Master!" I am holding onto his leg, the highest point I can reach at this age. Pure terror is running through my veins, reflected on my face. I am 6 years old, my hair sticking to my head as I break out in a cold sweat. My hands grip tighter, nails digging through the thin fabric of his trousers.

A grunt of pain and I am kicked away from him. Have I hurt him? Have I hurt my Master? So selfishly preoccupied with my own thoughts, he comes first: shouldn't I know not to question him by now?! I begin to crawl towards him, ignoring the stabbing pains in my side when I hear Aunt Petunia come running out of the house, crying, cursing my Master. She is coming towards me, arms outstretched, closer, closer, too close. Is this allowed? I look at Master, trying to get any indication of how to please him. A slight shake of his head and I am moving swiftly towards him, still on my hands and knees, to rest at his feet. My Aunt is sobbing now, her hands covering her mouth, staring at me with hollow eyes. I will never forget those eyes.

A knife, later it will become my own punishment knife, if pressed into my hands. A slight glance at him, with his chin slightly pointed towards my Aunt is all I need to know: it will make my Master happy. And that is all that matters.i

I look down at my task. Putting flowers on my Aunts, and my cousin's grave is my least favourite chore. The flowerbeds which they are buried under always seem to die faster than the rest. I have to replace them that much faster. It does remind me though, of what I did to them. As my Uncle, and my scars remind me: I am a murderer. I killed my Master's wife and son. It does not matter that it was on his command; my actions are my own, although I am my Master's.

As I enter the kitchen, my Master is waiting for me, enjoying the breakfast I have made for him. I kneel in my position by the base of his chair, will he feed me today? I made his favourite, which he occasionally allows me a few bites of. I lower my head; it would not do to be seen staring at my Master like a starving dog. Coincidentally, that phrase is on my lower thigh. I stare at it, concentrating hard on each letter, and the lesson behind it. Almost too hard, a crust lands on the floor by my ankle. I bend, picking it up with my teeth, chewing on it, swallowing.

"Thank-you Master"

He throws some clothes at me. I detest clothes, the feeling of them rubbing against my skin sickens me. I want to tear at them rip them to shreds. However, I slip on the long sleeved black shirt and jeans. I tie the laces to the shoes he has given me. My punishment knife stands stark against the material, its outline clearly visible. My Master gives it a worried look, and moves towards me, but the doorbell chimes before he can reach me.

"Harry James Potter. 11 years old. Polite and friendly" he hisses.

I nod, rapidly, rising from the floor, and wiping any hint of crumbs from around my mouth. My heart hammers wildly as I hear Master greet the man at the door. I have only ever played Harry Potter outside of the house before now. Here was my sanctuary, where I was nobody but what my Master wanted me to be... Yet I must steel myself, and deal with this, for him. For my love.

I take a deep breath as a tall man with long lanky hair enters the kitchen.

"Good Morning Harry."


	3. New Aquaintances

I stare at him for far too long, drawing attention to myself. I can't seem to help it; Severus Snape is one of the strangest men I have ever seen. Dressed in what looks like a black gown, which looks slightly feminine, yet he still manages to look masculine at the same time. His face errs on the side of ugly, and he looks so pale, too pale, as if he has never seen sunlight. I see his face harden, as my Master's does. I remember, too late, that I am supposed to be Harry Potter.

"Potter," the Professor barks at me, his voice harsh in the recently quiet kitchen. "It is polite, as a rule, to answer when somebody addresses you."

*You've messed it up again! Stupid, dirty whore, can't do anything right. Making their lives a misery. Stupid, stupid, STUPID. Make it right. NOW! Fix a smile on your face. Do it! DO IT!*

Shit. The voice is back. I can't concentrate on it now; Severus' face is getting darker by the second, as is my Master's. Calm down. Sssh. Just calm down, and remember:

"I'm sorry, Sir, I got distracted for a moment. Good Morning." My response takes the edge off his anger, yet the look of disgust on his face is still evident.

"We do not tolerate inattentiveness at Hogwarts, do you understand Potter?" His face contorts around each syllable, stopping at odd points, and dragging words out. It's hypnotic to listen to, although

I reply: "Yes Sir."

It must be the right answer, his face smoothes out slightly, although it does not lose that stern look. I think that might be normal though, he had that same look on his face when he came in. I look up at him, pasting a smile on my face as he looks at his watch. I think it's nearly time to go. To leave him.

I know this is irrational, I have been punished for this many times: I MUST learn to control it! The anxiety is outside evil, and Master doesn't want anybody to taint me with their evil views. I know for sure, they are all evil, the outside is full of it, I am corrupted, HE is my saviour. I will do what I must today, and come home to him.

"Potter."

I am broken out of my reverie by the sharp voice of Professor Snape again. He is drawing a newspaper out of his pocket, and checking the clock, every couple of seconds. I would say that his behaviour is strange, yet what am I to know? I look at him inquisitively.

"Say your goodbyes, we will be leaving in less than a minute." He precedes to stare out of the window into the perfectly kept garden. I, on the other hand have eyes only for my Master.

He moves closer to me, and puts his arms loosely around me, his eyes hard. Whispers in my ear:

"Remember: Harry Potter. See you later, my little slut."

I breathe in his delicious scent, the scent exclusively his, rub myself discreetly against him, just the way he likes it. Lick the sensitive part of his neck, in the pretence of hugging him. I am released, with a small push, reminding me that we have company. The professor hasn't noticed though, thank God.

I move over to Professor Snape, and he turns to face my Master.

"I will have him back before 5pm. I trust this is an amenable time for you?"

"Yes, fine." Master replies, yet in my head I am reeling.

That is nearly all day! I thought a few hours at most! I look at my Master in panic, yet his hard glare at me reminds me. I will please him. I will do the right thing.

The professor holds out the newspaper to me, which has started to glow strangely.

"This is a portkey. It will take us to our destination, once you touch it." He gestures for me to touch it, and I reach forward tentatively. As my hand brushes the paper, my stomach is jerked forward, pulling me closer to the paper, and my professor.


End file.
